Not Gello's self loves more than I

Γέλλως παιδοφιλωτέρα·

NOT Gello's self loves more than I 
The virgin train, m y company. 
No thought of Eros doth appal 
Their cheeks ; their strong, clear eyes let fall 
No tears ; they dream their days will be 
All laughter, love, serenity, 
And violet-weaving at my knee— 

Subtle Mnasidica in shape 
As firm as the unripened grape, 
Dica with meeting eyebrows sleek, 
And Gorgo of the apple-cheek, 
With that young, dove-eyed creature come 
From Telos, whose soft lips are dumb ; 
The golden bees about them hum. 

Dica put forth her hand to reach 
The blue sea-holly on the beach
Last night. I drew the child away ; 
She knew not where the love-charm lay, 
And from the fatal fibre let 
Her hand relax ; but by his net 
One stood she never can forget. 

Ah me, and Gorgo too is pale ! 
Fell Cypris, if thou must prevail, 
Mingle no madness in love's wine ; 
That these should e'er as Sappho pine, 
Goddess, forbid ! The little thing 
From Telos must be taught to sing ; 
The rest to Hymen's portals bring !